


I'm not doing it right, but this is how I want it

by itisjosh



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Character Study, Child Abuse, Gen, Manipulation, Minor Violence, POV Second Person, Sort Of, i woke up at 2am to write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23136502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itisjosh/pseuds/itisjosh
Summary: Your life has never been easy. Especially not at nine. It got worse at eleven, and everything really just started to go downhill when your parents decided that you wouldn't be receiving your inheritance. You disagreed with that, and that's when everything got better.For you, at least.





	I'm not doing it right, but this is how I want it

Your life has never been easy. You were born in the Upper Stands, raised there for the majority of your life. Your mother and father were both wealthy people, only married because of a money agreement. They never spoke about your grandparents, and you never bothered to ask. You were the second child, one they did not particularly want. They always loved your brother more, because he was the perfect child. He never got into trouble, never did anything wrong, was always the good little pawn they wanted him to be (you would later figure out that he hated it; that he only played their games to protect himself). You were taught how to be proper, how appearances mattered, how to talk to people of all classes, from high to low. You were taught how to act, say please and thank you, never speak out of turn, never do anything out of line. You were taught how to be the perfect child. You were taught to be their perfect child. 

You were taught that money was important, and that it bought friends, favours, and extra years. Money was your parents’ entire life. They were flashy, important, big and loud. They were these things because they could be, and because putting on shows were how they continued to make money. They talked big, made false promises and taught you to do the same. They taught you how to lie, how to make people like you, love you, want to be you. They did all of this for you, they would say. They did it because you “needed to know”. They never asked your opinion - they didn’t care. They never cared about you, you were just a little pawn in their game, just like your brother was. You were always the younger child that could be showed off and promised to a wealthy man or woman later on in life. You were nine when you started to misbehave. 

You were nine when your mother started to beat you. You were nine when she used to tie you down and talk at you for hours on end while slicing into your skin with the knife she kept under her pillow. You were told that it was for your own good. You were told that you needed to learn, and that disobeying would not be tolerated. You never could fix it from there. Everything you did was wrong, everything was incorrect, and your mother was not hesitant to show you that. She was never hesitant, and it convinced you that she hated you, and that you would never be good enough. Because you were the second child, the youngest, the one who could not speak out against them, protest, fight back. You were young, you could not do anything. You were expected to sit down and let your mother cut you and slap you, belittle you. You were expected to allow her to carve into you and try to make you her little doll from the inside out. You didn’t question this until you were eleven. 

You were eleven when you saw your brother’s scars. You were eleven when you saw them, criss-crossing down his arms and his legs, a permanent reminder of what happened when he disobeyed. You didn’t understand why it was happening to him, of all people. He was the one your parents loved. You weren’t. So why were they hurting him, too? Your brother was always getting praise for every little thing he ever did, and you never, ever did. You were called a fool, a brat, a coward, a terrible child. You did not matter to them, and he did. Why would he be the one receiving punishments? You asked him one day, after two months of seeing his own scars. Your brother smiled at you and said, “it doesn’t matter what you do, or how you do it, it’s never going to be good enough.” You did not want to believe this, especially from the boy who got everything from them. You didn’t understand. You wouldn’t understand until you were fourteen, and met a girl.

You were fourteen when you met her. You were fourteen when you met your best friend, and she told you that you were going to make it big. You could talk with her for hours on end, about anything. You spoke to her about your parents and your brother, and eventually invited your brother to meet her. He liked her, she liked him. The three of you became close friends. You were thankful that she was from the Upper Stands, because if Mother ever found out she was from the bottom of Diamond City, she would hurt you very, very badly. At that point, you had learnt that certain actions gave certain punishments. Speaking to lower-level people without the intention of robbing, harming, or making them give you something was forbidden. Speaking to higher-level people was not as strict, but it would still give her reason to punish you if it went wrong, even if it was out of your control. You were never allowed to have many friends, because if they got too close to the family and decided to take your inheritance, or steal it..you were not sure what Mother would have done, but you knew it would have been terrible, and you don’t think that you would have ever been able to recover from that. You spent two years with your best friend. You were sixteen when it happened. 

You were sixteen when a young girl was accidentally killed because of you. You were sixteen when she died in your best friend’s arms. She stopped breathing and you had to hide the body. It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t your brother’s or best friend’s. You got involved with a gang, a Raider gang. They were powerful and strong and smart, and they intrigued you. They made you want more, they made you want more in your life, out of your life. They made you realize that you couldn’t stay under Mother’s thumb forever, that you couldn’t let yourself live like that. You never expected them to turn on you, try to kidnap you and get your parents to give up your inheritance as a ransom. You knew Mother much better than they did. You knew that she would have never done that. She would have let you be tortured, killed. She would have never batted an eye at it. She would have played it up for the public and would gain sympathy, as well as more money. You were seventeen when you realized just how much that girl’s death would affect you. 

You were seventeen when Mother sent you a holotape, informing you that you would not be getting your inheritance. You were seventeen when she told you that you were nothing to her. She was allowing you to be exiled from Diamond City. She refused to defend you anymore. You knew she never had defended you, specifically. She was defending herself, her name. The family name that you had tarnished. You could do nothing. You left Diamond City with your best friend and brother by your side, your Mother’s holotape in your back pocket. You had never felt so useless, so awful. You had never felt like this, not even when Mother would cut you, scream at you, talk at you for hours, leave you in the basement for days on end. You did not understand it, why you felt so bad. You assumed it was because she was very, very technically still your family. She raised you, and kicking you out was like a fist to your face. You were eighteen when you sent a reply.

You were eighteen when you sent a reply back to Mother. You were eighteen when you told her that you were going to get your inheritance, no matter what. You marched to Diamond City. You broke into your parents’ house with a bobby pin and a red-handled screwdriver. You forged their will, forged their signatures and names and dates and wishes. You forged everything, and then you put it in their safe. You climbed back out of the window, lined up your sniper rifle, and shot both of them in the head. You were called to Diamond City the next day by the Mayor, who informed you of the sudden death of your parents. He told you that his officials found a will in your parents’ safe, informing everyone that all of their money was to go to you and your brother. You accepted this with a smile on your face and thousands of caps in your pockets and bags. You were twenty when you finally found your purpose.

You were twenty when you found Nuka-World. You were twenty when you met Colter, who told you all about the great wonders of Nuka-World, and how it would be a tourist trap. How you could make money, quickly and easily. You agreed, with your brother and best friend by your side. You watched as Colter invited two more gangs into the agreement. You watched as those two gangs started to fight. You, obviously, decided to profit off of it. You were smarter, now. You knew how the world worked. You knew how to work the world to your favour, to make it bend to your will, to force it to be what you wanted it to be. You set up your home in a place called the Parlour, decorated it to your standards, and started working. You slowly started to turn the other two gangs against each other, watching as they destroyed each other, stole from each other, killed each other. You played them into your hands, controlling them both more than Colter had ever controlled any of you. You are twenty-two, and you have over five hundred thousand caps. 

You are twenty-two, and you are the richest person in Nuka-World. You are twenty-two and have done everything your parents have ever told you not to do. You are one of, if not the, most powerful people in Nuka-World. You have created a formal “gang” - the Operators. You are in charge and in power, and you cannot be stopped. You are the one pulling strings now, you are the one making the world work for you. You know exactly what you want in life now.

Your name is Mags Black, and you are running the world now.


End file.
